


Too Much Overtime

by Dusty_Forgotten



Series: Mike Schmidt is Done with Your Shit [6]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3214874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Mike Schmidt makes a bet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Overtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amazingspaceship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazingspaceship/gifts).



You hold up the two bills, a hundred and a twenty. “You in?”

She sighs as she reaches into her purse, pulls out a wallet. “And all I have to do is sit through your shift?”

“That’s it.” You grin. She hands you two fifties, a ten, and two fives. You stick all the cash under the desk fan, and flick it on. “All you’ve gotta do is sit there for six hours, and you double your money.”

She won’t make it three. “This isn’t too bad.” Dr. Fischbach mentions as you settle in front of the cameras. “Many people have worse working conditions than this.”

“City power’s still on.” you reply, and on cue, every light but the single incandescent (you switched back after the white light started to bother you) above your desk, and the faint glow from the tablet the cameras are linked to. “There we go.”

“Still not terrible.” Your therapist says, crossing her legs, uncrossing them. She’s stuck in one of the dining chairs with the sticky plastic cushions with rips in them. Yours is an office chair. With rolly wheels. It’s a Thursday, so she’s in for a treat. Foxy’s leaned out of Pirate Cove already, Chica’s out, and you’re pretty sure that’s Bonnie in the kitchen. You can’t find Freddy, so at least he’s not close.

“Is this your job?”

You only glance up from the cameras to roll to one side of the room, flick the lights, and then the other. “Pretty much.”

Well, this, and animatronic repair, and mopping, and dusting, and cleaning the ovens, and the fridge, and soda dispensers, and the air conditioning filter, and you’re still trying to unclog that one toilet in the women’s room. Plus you keep finding bloodstains you swear you’ve bleached out already. Technically, none of that is your job, but it’s not like anyone else is gonna do it.

“This isn’t nearly as bad as I’d imagined. Are you sure this is the only reason you come to therapy?”

You glare at her as you cycle the cameras. “Look, I know I’ve got a few issues, okay? I was accepted to college and never went, I still live with my mother. She thinks I’m my brother half the time. I’ve got issues, but I only got panic attacks and hallucinations since I started working this job. I don’t know if it’s the new job, late nights, bleach fumes, I don’t know.” You flick the hall light, and shut the door on Chica. “Or maybe there is some crazy shit going on here. That’s what you’re here for, right? Tell me if I’m crazy?”

She stares slack-jawed and wide-eyed out the window. You glance, and hold the lights on. “That’s just Chica. Wave hi to Chica.” You wave. Dr. Fischbach raises her hand, and Chica squawks, hits the glass, and disappears into the dark. You open the door, turn the lights off, and pull up the camera.

“What are you doing!? It’s still out there, close the door!”

You look up from the camera, and shut the left door. “First off, Bonnie is the only one you can call it, because I don’t know if Bonnie’s male or female. Freddy and Foxy are boys, Chica’s a girl. Get it right.” Foxy bangs on the left door. You turn on the lights, and shoo him. He scurries back off. “That’s Foxy, by the way. He’s shy, don’t expect to see him too much. Secondly, we only have so much power overnight, I can’t keep the door closed all the time because you’re scared.”

You open the door, and Bonnie’s standing there, so you close it again. Dr. Fischbach shrieks. You roll your eyes and check the cameras. “Wh-which one is that?”

“Bonnie.” you reply easily.

“Is that all of them?”

“Well, there’s always Freddy.”

She jumps at the deep laughter echoing in; something you’re so accustomed to you wouldn’t have noticed. “That’s Freddy.”

“Is _that_ all?”

“Unless you count Golden Freddy, who you’ve told me is a hallucination, and I’m trusting you on that, then yes. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy.”

“Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy...”

You roll your eyes. “They can hear you calling them.”

She clamps her hands over her mouth. You check the cameras, Freddy staring at you from the end of the hallway. “Hey, want to see Freddy?”

She shakes her head violently, but you laugh, and turn the tablet towards her. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and you chuckle as you flick lights, and cycle cameras. This job’s really fucking with you.

“Mike?” she squeaks.

“Yeah?” you respond, but don’t look up.

Her inhale is shaky. “ _What is that?_ ”

You follow her shaking pointer finger, and see an empty suit propped in the corner. “Huh. I thought I was hallucinating that one. Don’t look at it, you’ll be fine.”

You’re checking on Pirate Cove when she screams, and you plug one of your ears before looking up. There’s blood splattered over the floor, up one of the walls, and she’s laying in two pieces on the floor, but Golden Freddy’s gone now. You sigh, and roll forward to yank the cash out from under the fan, and stuff it in your back pocket. It’s gonna smell like bleach in here for a week.


End file.
